Hettie merely smiled. “I know that this has been a shock to your siblings, so I cannot fault them, and it is little wonder that I draw most of their ire, as it is easier to hate a stranger than one’s own family. As I adore two members of the Baxter clan, I can only hope the rest will acclimate in time.”
But rather than the strain easing from her expression, Charity’s brows pinched together, her eyes as bleak as ever. “They will not.”
“You say that with such certainty.” Hettie affected a light tone, though it did nothing to clear the worry from Charity’s gaze.
“I know them well, and they cannot stand the thought of Father being happy with a woman who is not our mother.”
Hettie’s brows rose. “And you are?”
“I know better than most how capricious and calculating Mama was. They only knew the lady who did whatever she must to ensure their futures, fostering matches of which she approved and placing them on paths she deemed worthy of her children. My mother was not wicked or evil. She was simply selfish in her endeavors, and as long as you did as she wished, she could be a lovely person.”
Shaking her head, Charity huffed. “I do not doubt my siblings saw the darker side of her personality at times, but for the most part, they were quite content to follow Mama’s proddings. I am the only child whose plans fell to pieces, and I became the physical embodiment of her failures, which shame I compounded by marrying ‘far below’ me. When Thomas and I announced our engagement, she railed like a banshee, raging as I had never thought possible of her.”
Brows furrowed, she added, “She attended the wedding only because it was expected of her, but the moment the vows were spoken, she never looked at or spoke to me again. The deed was done, and the battle lost, so she erased me from her life.”
Though Charity spoke with little emotion, Hettie sensed the pain beneath it. With a tremulous smile, she added in a falsely bright tone, “Thankfully, our engagement was of short duration, for our good friends gave us a marriage license as a present, so we didn’t need to wait as the banns were read, and I was spared weeks of such treatment. But even when she was at death’s door, she sent words of wisdom and loving farewells to each of her children except me.”
Hettie didn’t know what to say to such a confession. Sifting through the possibilities, she searched for something—anything—to say that might ease Charity’s heartache. But there was nothing to erase that hurt.
Then another pain took hold, distracting them both
“Breathe,” said Hettie, and though her patient gave her another scowl, Charity did as bidden, forcing her lungs to work even as instinct had her holding her breath. Together, they breathed through the pain, and once it passed, Charity collapsed once more, staring up at the ceiling.
“I don’t think my siblings ever saw our mother in that light—” she began again.
“We do not need to speak of this,” said Hettie, but Charity shook her head.
“You need to understand.”
“I—”
“You cannot let them get the best of you.” Gripping Hettie’s hand tightly once more, Charity turned her gaze to her. “The others never understood Mama’s cruel side. Even if we were to tell them the truth, they’d never believe it, for Mama always doted on them, and they loved her in return. And in their minds, our parents had a good and happy marriage simply because Papa never raised a commotion. They will always view this as a betrayal because it will shatter that illusion.”
Hettie drew in a breath as the weight of those words settled on her.
“Promise me…” Charity’s teeth ground together as another pain began again. “Promise me you will not allow him to surrender. Papa has grown so used to giving in to demands that I fear he won’t hold firm. But he deserves to be happy. You both do…”
But Charity’s words were cut short when another moan escaped as she strained against the pain.
*
Proverbs warned against eavesdropping, cautioning those wayward ears of what they may hear, but as Baxter’s position was not born of curiosity, he hadn’t thought anything of taking up a post beside the door to Charity’s lying-in chamber. Standing guard and dissuading the others from interrupting was the only thing he could do for the ladies inside.
However, good intentions didn’t keep him from overhearing Charity’s words.
As much as her concern warmed the cold corners of his heart, the motivation behind it left him far more chilled than before. Did she think so little of his conviction that he would throw Hettie over simply because his children were unhappy? Yet Baxter couldn’t deny just how much their opinions had swayed him of late or how close he’d come to parting from her. His children were the very reason he hadn’t pursued Hettie from the very first moment he’d met her.
With a sigh, he leaned his head against the wall and acknowledged that even his reason for being in the hall had less to do with Charity and more with the discomfort of being in the library with his sons and daughter-in-law lying in wait.
Hamilton Baxter was a coward, but he hadn’t always been. True, he was never one for grand adventures or scrapes, and he’d never been called bold or dashing, but being reserved was not the same as being weak-willed.
Those thoughts followed him as he rose to his feet, pacing the hallway in front of the door. Baxter’s thoughts swirled as he listened to the hum of voices from inside the room and the sounds of his daughter’s cries. His hands clasped behind his back, and he stared at his feet as they pulled him back and forth.
The minutes ticked away, feeding into the hours until the voices inside grew more agitated. Baxter paused at the door, his ears trained for the sounds inside, and he couldn’t help but remember a day not so very long ago when he’d listened for Charity’s first cries.
His daughter groaned, a bellowing moan ripped the air, and then that most beautiful of sounds followed as the babe cleared its lungs, announcing to the world its birth. Baxter beamed at the door, his heart swelling at the sound. How he longed to push it open and see for himself. Only knowing that Charity didn’t wish him there kept him from doing just that.
It seemed another hour as he waited at the threshold before the door opened, and Mrs. Johnson gave a start upon finding him in the doorway. Stepping aside, she motioned him in, though Baxter hardly noticed the midwife as his gaze fell to Charity. She was wrapped up in her bed, her cheeks flushed and her hair cemented to her temples in dark curls, but she beamed at her father and gazed down at the bundle in her arms.
